Baseball Joe, Home Run King; or, The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER I

  A DANGEROUS PLUNGE

  "I'm going to tie you up in knots, old man," said Jim Barclay, with asmile, as he picked up the ball and stepped into the box in battingpractice at the training camp.

  "I've heard that kind of talk before," retorted Joe Matson, known allover the country as "Baseball Joe," the king pitcher of the Giants."But untying knots is the best thing I do. Give me the best you have inthe shop."

  Jim wound up and put one over that just cut the corner of the plate.Joe made a mighty swing at it, but it was just beyond his reach.

  "Nearly broke your back reaching for that one, eh?" laughed Jim, as theball was thrown back to him.

  "I was just kidding you that time," grinned Joe. "I'm going to kill thenext one."

  Again the ball whizzed to the plate. It was a fast, straight ball witha slight hop to it. Joe caught it near the end of his bat and "leanedon it" heavily. The ball soared out between right and center, andthe outfielders covering that position gave one look at it and thenturned and ran with the ball. But it kept on and on until it clearedthe fence, and the discomfited fielders threw up their hands and cameslowly back to their positions.

  Jim looked sheepish, and Joe, who was his chum and best friend, laughedoutright as he relinquished the bat to the next man in line.

  "A sweet home run, Jim," he remarked.

  "I should say so!" snorted Jim. "That hit was good for two home runs.The ball was ticketed for kingdom come."

  "Who was it said that pitchers couldn't hit?" laughed Mylert, the burlycatcher of the Giant team, as he took Joe's place.

  "I'll tell the world that some of them can!" exclaimed Jim, as heprepared to try his luck again. "Gee, Joe, if that had happened to mein a regular game, it would have broken my heart."

  Two keen-eyed men in uniform had been standing near the side lines,watching intently every move of the players, as they tried out theirbatting eyes and arms. One was stocky and of medium height, withhair that had begun to grey at the temples. The other was stout andruddy, with a twinkle in his eyes that bespoke good nature. Both wereveterans of many hard-fought baseball campaigns, and both had playedon the Baltimore Orioles when that great organization of stars was thesensation of the baseball world.

  "Did you see that hit, Robbie?" asked McRae, the manager of the Giants,of his stout companion.

  "Not all of it," replied Robson, the coach of the team. "But I followedit as far as the fence. That was a whale of a wallop. I'll bet theball's going yet," and the man chuckled gleefully.

  "Of course, this was only in practice," mused McRae. "Perhaps Barclaywasn't trying over hard."

  "Don't kid yourself, Mac," replied Robson. "Barclay wasn't just lobbingthem up. That ball came over like a bullet. It had a hop on it too, butJoe gauged it just right. I tell you that boy is a wonder. If he wasn'ta wizard in the box, he'd be a terror at the bat."

  "I wish there were two of him, Robbie," said the manager, smiling. "Oneto cover the mound and the other to use as a pinch hitter or play himin the outfield. That would make a combination hard to beat."

  "It was the best day's work you ever did when you got that lad from St.Louis," remarked Robson. "I'll bet the Cardinal's manager feels likethrowing a fit every time he thinks what a fool he was to let him go."

  "Well," said McRae, "if everybody's foresight in baseball was as goodas his hindsight, there'd be no trading done. I don't mind saying thatI throw out my chest a little for having seen what was in the kid. He'scertainly been the making of the team."

  "One thing is certain; and that is that you wouldn't have the World'sChampionship tucked away if it hadn't been for his great work in theSeries," rejoined Robson. "He just had those Chicago birds eating outof his hand."

  "Right you are," admitted McRae. "Here's hoping he'll repeat thisseason."

  "Don't worry a bit about that," was Robson's confident answer. "You cansee for yourself that he's been going great guns in practice. And evenat that he hasn't been letting himself out. He's taking good care ofthat old soup-bone of his."

  "He was never better in his life," declared McRae. "I'll admit that Iwas a little worried for fear that the trip around the world had takensomething out of him. You know what a strain he was under in thatAll-Star League affair, Robbie. But it hasn't seemed to affect him atall."

  "He'll need all he's got this year," said Robbie thoughtfully. "We'llhave to depend more on the pitching than we did last year, becausewe're not so strong on the batting end. When Burkett quit, it tookaway a good deal of our hitting strength, and you've seen that Mylertis slipping. On the form he's shown in practice this spring, he won'tbe good for more than a two hundred and fifty per cent average, andthat's about sixty points below what he showed last year."

  "I know it," agreed the manager, a worried look coming into his face."And what makes it worse is that Larry, too, is slow in roundinginto form. Instead of lining them out, he's sending them up in theair. He'll be just pie for the fielders if he keeps it up. I can'tunderstand the thing at all."

  "Oh, well," said Robbie, whose jolly disposition never let him staylong under a cloud, "here's hoping that they'll come to the scratchwhen the season opens. Some of the rookies look pretty good to me, andif the old-timers fall down we may be able to fill their places allright. Come along, Mac; let's finish working out that schedule forthe trip north. We'll have to get a hustle on to be in shape to startto-morrow."

  McRae gave the signal to his men that practice time was over, and theyoung athletes, nothing loth to drop their work and get down to thehotel for dinner, began to gather up their bats preparatory to jumpinginto the bus which was waiting outside the grounds. But before they gotto it, McRae and Robson had climbed in and given the signal to thedriver to start.

  "No, you don't!" he called out with a grin, as the bus started away."You fellows leg it down to the hotel. It's only two miles, and youneed the exercise. Get a move on, or Robbie and I will clear the tablebefore you get there."

  There were grunts and groans from the players, for the sun was warm andthe practice had been strenuous. But there was no help for it, and theydropped into a dog trot that was quickened by the thought of the dinnerthat was waiting for them at the end of the journey.

  They reached the hotel in good time, took a shower bath, changed intotheir regular clothes, and were soon at the table with an appetite thatswept the board and made the colored waiters roll their eyes in wonder,not unmixed with awe.

  After the meal was finished, Joe and Jim were on their way to theroom they shared together when they passed McRae and Robbie, who weresitting in the lobby enjoying their after-dinner cigars.

  McRae beckoned to them, and they went over to where the pair wassitting.

  "Well, boys," said the manager, as he motioned to a couple of chairsinto which they dropped, "our spring practice is over and I don't mindsaying that I'm feeling good over the way you fellows ate up yourwork. Both of you look as fit as fiddles."

  "That's sure the way we feel," answered Joe, and Jim murmuredacquiescence.

  "In fact you look so good," went on McRae, knocking the ashes fromhis cigar and settling back comfortably in his chair, "that I'm goingto call training finished, as far as you two are concerned. Just nowyou're right at the top of your form, and I don't want to take anychances on your going stale. So I'm going to let you rest up forthe next week or ten days. All you have to do is to take good careof yourselves--and I know you boys well enough to be sure you'll dothat--and turn up in shape when the season opens week after next."

  Joe and Jim looked at each other, and the same thought was in the mindof each. This seemed too good to be true!

  "We start north to-morrow," went on McRae, "in two lots, playing minorleague teams on the way to keep in practice. The regulars will go alongwith me, while Robbie will take the second string men and the rookies.We'll jog along in easy fashion and hope to reach the Polo Grounds inthe pink of condition."

  By this time Joe had found his voice. He smiled broadly.
r />   "That's mighty good of you, Mac," he said. "I suppose you want us thento go right through to New York."

  "That's the idea," replied the manager. "Robbie will see to yourtransportation this afternoon."

  But just here, Robson, who had been watching the boys' faces, brokeinto a laugh.

  "For the love of Mike, wake up Mac!" he adjured his friend. "Don't youknow that Joe lives only a couple of hundred miles from here right overthe border? And don't you remember those two pretty girls that werewith us on the World Tour? And didn't we hear Joe telling Jim a fewdays ago that his sweetheart was visiting his folks? And here you aresending the lads straight through to New York with never a stop on theway. Mac, old man, I'm ashamed of you."

  McRae grinned as he looked at the faces of the young men--faces thathad grown suddenly red.

  "Robbie hit the nail on the head, did he?" he said, with a chuckle."Well, I'm Irishman enough to have a soft spot in my heart for the ladsand their colleens. Fix it up, boys, to suit yourselves. As long as youreport on time, that's all I ask. Get along with you now, as Robbie andI have got to fix up our routes."

  Joe and Jim were only too glad to "get along," and after thanking McRaehurried to their room, where they indulged in a wild war dance.

  "Glory, hallelujah!" shouted Joe. "A whole week or more to ourselves,and home only two hundred miles away!"

  "Your home is," replied Jim. "Mine's more than a thousand miles away."

  "You old sardine!" cried Joe, throwing a book at his head. "Isn't myhome yours? Do you think I'd dare show my face there without bringingyou along? Clara would never forgive me. Neither would Mabel. Neitherwould Momsey nor Dad. Get a wiggle on now, old man, and hunt up atime-table."

  Jim, with his face jubilant at the thought of soon seeing Joe'spretty sister, hustled about for the time-table; and with heads closetogether the young men were soon poring over the schedules. At last Joestraightened up with a vexed exclamation.

  "Of all the roundabout ways!" he ejaculated. "We'll have to changethree or four different times with all sorts of bad connections, andcan't reach Riverside until to-morrow afternoon."

  "Wait a minute," said Jim, running his pencil along a column. "Here'sa line that will get us to Martinsville early to-morrow morning, justbefore daylight. How far is Martinsville from Riverside?"

  "About fifty miles more or less," replied Joe. "But crickey, Jim, thatgives me an idea! What's the matter with going to Martinsville andhiring an auto there? I know Hank Bixby who keeps a garage there andhas autos for hire. He used to live in Riverside, and played with meon the old school nine before his folks moved away. I'll send him awire telling him what time we'll get there and asking him to have afirst-class car ready for us."

  "You know the road all right, do you?" asked Jim. "Remember it will bedark when we get there."

  "I know it like a book," replied Joe. "I've been over it many a time.I could travel it in the dark. It's as level as a table until you getto Hebron. Just beyond that there's a steep hill that will give the carsomething to do. But Hank will give me a machine that can climb it,and, besides, it will be just about daylight by the time we get there.It's a cinch that we won't have any trouble. I'll bet a hat--what's thematter, Jim?"

  For Jim had risen and moved quickly toward the door, which had beenstanding partly open. He put out his head and looked down the corridor.Not satisfied with that, he went down the hall to the head of thestairs. Then he slowly retraced his steps.

  Joe, who had followed his chum to the door, looked at him withopen-mouthed wonder.

  "What's the matter with you?" he queried. "Have you gone daffy?"

  "Not exactly," replied Jim. "I thought I saw somebody I knew go pastthe door."

  "Likely enough," said Joe, with a touch of sarcasm. "It wouldn't be atall surprising. The hotel is full of our fellows."

  "It wasn't one of our boys," returned Jim slowly.

  "Well, who was it then?" asked Joe, a little impatiently. "Come out ofyour trance, old man."

  "I think it was a fellow we know only too well," Jim replied. "I thinkit was Braxton."

  "Braxton!" exclaimed Joe with sudden interest. "The fellow that waswith us on the World Tour?"

  "The same one," affirmed Jim. "The fellow you licked within an inch ofhis life in the old Irish castle."

  "Are you sure?" asked Joe. "It doesn't seem at all likely that we'd runacross that rascal in this little training-camp town. What on earthwould he be doing down here?"

  "That's just what I want to know," replied Jim soberly. "As you say,it's all against the chances that we should run across him here byaccident. If he's here, he's come with some purpose. And that purposemeans nothing good for you. He's exactly the sort of man that won'tforget that thrashing."

  "I guess he won't," replied Joe grimly. "My knuckles ache now when Ithink of it. But if he's looking for another licking, he sure can haveit."

  "He isn't looking for another," Jim returned. "He's looking to get evenfor the first one you gave him. You know he swore at the time that he'dpay you up for it."

  "He's welcome to try," declared Joe indifferently. "But really, Jim, Ithink you're mistaken. It seems too improbable. There are plenty of menin the world who look like Braxton."

  "Of course, I wouldn't swear it was he," admitted Jim. "I only saw himside-face, and he slipped past the door like a ghost."

  "Well, we'll keep our eyes open about the hotel and around the town,"rejoined Joe. "But now let's think of pleasanter things. Our train goesat six, and we've got lots to do in getting our duds packed. Then, too,I've got to wire to Hank and must get the tickets for as far as thecars will carry us."

  The afternoon proved a busy one, but by train time they had completedtheir packing, said good-by to the rest of the team, who frankly enviedthem their luck, and were snugly ensconced in the day coach, as thelittle road had no sleeping cars, and even if they had the frequentchanges they had to make would have made a sleeper not worth while. Asit was, they slept in snatches, had luck in their connections, andabout an hour before dawn stepped off the train at the little stationof Martinsville.

  Both Baseball Joe and Jim Barclay had expected to find the town asleep,but were surprised to find a large number of the inhabitants, chieflythe younger men, at the station. Still another group stood in thelighted doorway of Hank Bixby's garage, which was directly across thestreet.

  "What's the big idea?" Jim asked Joe, as he looked in surprise at thecrowd that drew close about them.

  "Blest if I know," replied Joe. "Maybe there's been a fire orsomething."

  But they were soon enlightened, as Hank came bustling across thestreet, his face aglow with welcome and self-importance.

  "Howdy, Mr. Matson!" he exclaimed, as he wrung Joe's hand.

  "Mr. Matson!" laughed Joe, returning the handshake. "Where do you getthat stuff? What's the matter with Joe?"

  "Well, Joe, then," beamed Hank. "You see, Joe, you've got to be such abig fellow now, known all over the United States, that I felt a bit shyabout calling you by your first name. I got your wire and mentioned itto a fellow or two, and by heck it was all over town in no time thatthe greatest pitcher in the country was going to be here. This crowd'sbeen waiting here all night to say howdy to you."

  The people were all crowding around him by now, waiting their turn toshake hands, and Joe, although embarrassed, as he always was when hefound himself the center of attention, did his best to respond to theexpressions of good will and admiration that were showered upon him.Jim also came in for his share of the crowd's interest as a promisingand rapidly rising pitcher of the baseball champions of the world.It was with a sigh of relief that they settled themselves at last inthe speedy car which Hank had provided for them and which he proudlyassured them would "just burn up the road" between Martinsville andRiverside.

  Joe took the wheel and the car started off, amid a waving of hands anda roar of farewell from the crowd.

  "Great day for Martinsville," said Jim mischievously, as he settleddown by the s
ide of his chum and the car purred along over the levelroad. "How does it feel to be a hero, Joe?"

  "Quit your kidding," replied Joe, with a grin. "If they'd wrung thisold wing of mine much more, McRae would have been minus one of hispitchers."

  "One of the penalties of greatness," chaffed Jim.

  "And now for home!" exulted Joe, as he put on added speed and the carleaped forward.

  "And Clara," murmured Jim under his breath, as he thought of Joe'scharming sister.

  Joe did not hear him, for his thoughts were engrossed with Mabel, thegirl who had promised to marry him and who he fondly hoped might be atthis moment dreaming of him, as without her knowledge he was speedingtoward her. She had been visiting at his father's home as the guest ofhis sister Clara. Since their trip together around the world the twogirls had become almost inseparable, and Mr. and Mrs. Matson alreadyregarded Mabel as a second daughter.

  The day for the marriage of Joe and Mabel had not yet been set, but Joewas determined that it should take place soon, and he hoped that now hewould be able to get Mabel to set a definite date for that happy event.

  Jim, too, had his dreams, and they all centered about Clara. He hadfallen desperately in love with her at their first meeting, and he hadmade up his mind that on this visit he would ask the all-importantquestion, on the answer to which his happiness depended.

  The car dashed along at rapid speed, and as they came near Hebron Joeroused himself from his reverie. The darkness was disappearing, and inthe faint light of the spring morning they could see a steep hill alittle way ahead. At the side of the road ran a little river, of whosemurmur they had been conscious for some time, although in the darknessthey could scarcely see it.

  "Here's where we'll see whether Hank was bragging overmuch about thiscar," remarked Joe, as he tightened his grasp on the wheel and put hisfoot on the accelerator. "I'll give her a good start and see how shecan climb."

  The car gathered speed as it neared the bottom of the hill. Joe peeredforward, and then from his lips came a startled shout.

  Directly in front of them, completely blocking the road, was a mass ofheavy timbers. To strike them at that speed meant maiming or death!

  At one side of the road was a steep cliff. On the other side was theriver.

  Joe's brain worked like lightning. There was but one chance. He swungthe wheel around, the car crashed through a fence at the side of theroad, suddenly stopped short, and Joe and Jim were sent headlong intothe river!